~ Possessed like an apostrophe.

Cow Shit

Not a lot of new stuff to post today, but I got a few mins to throw something together. Time for a little history lesson, this will get you a bit more familiar with the earlier years of my life.

So, who’s Dr.B?

I’ll give some information relevant to the blog, but I wish to stay anonymous due to content that will follow. I was born and raised in a shit kicker town located in northern NY, attending a high school which graduates around 25 to 35 rednecks per year.

Back in high school everyone knew everything. By this I mean we all knew everybody’s dirt from kindergarten until the last day of senior year. Believe me when I say everyone has skeletons in their closets, but you already know this. There was no such thing as being “anonymous”, if you shit your pants in class, everyone laughed at you whether they witnessed it or not. When your school has >600 students total Kindergarten -12th grade, news gets around quickly. I shit my pants at a friend’s place during high school once; luckily, he was a fat waddling fuck with no friends and didn’t tell anyone. Never trust a fart. I used him to get pirated copies of computer games like the first Grand Theft Auto. Back in the late 90’s, having a bootlegged copy of GTA was like finding Spanish bullion buried in your backyard. It took him over 4 weeks to download on a dial up internet connection 24 hours a day. That’s patience. He also hooked me up with Carmageddon 2. Still play it to this day. They certainly don’t make video games like they used to, but those are rants for another day.

Middle school could have been much worse for me. I had a lot of friends from separate groups. That’s how it was, kids grouped up based on varying lifestyles and made fun of the other groups. Think: rednecks, jocks, nerds, skaters, preps, whores. You get my drift. I always had my redneck friends for the parties and overall status in school, nerd friends for homework help/cheating on tests, jock friends for social proof in gym class, prep kids that I used for their parents money, and skater kids I called my true friends, even if they were total outcasts in a farming town.

High school is where I set myself apart from the crowd. I was never a part of any one group; I was just everybody’s friend. My parents started their own business and the family went from lower middle class, to upper tier in a year or 2. With that came the opportunity for racing. For now I am hesitant to reveal the details, perhaps in the future I will do so. It really would be a dead giveaway, if it’s not already. It’s important to my identity though and will be a regular part of this blog.

If you’ve never experienced perceived higher status in the game (preselection of sorts), you won’t totally understand how it works, but I was a type of B list celebrity in the area. People knew and still do know me because my father, myself, and brother have run a successful race team for the better part of 15 years now. Dominating the other locals year after year was just icing on the cake. The local race would bring 75-80% of the town to watch, and the next day at school was always a trip. My dad deserves the real credit though. He made it all happen, spending days in the garage perfecting our machines. I just happen to have a great reaction time, no fear of speed or other racers, and weigh less than other guys. Think of it like the Jockies in horse racing. Do they have 225lb meatheads on the back of those horses? Fuck no, they have the scrawniest, shortest, and more fearless young fellas they can find on those horses. The ladies loved this shit back then and still do to this day. The only difference is now I have groupies in different parts of the state that I can call on. My first official “girlfriend” met me at a race, and dumped her Mexican gang banger boy the next day in the cafeteria. She gave me my first beej that week when I drove her home from school. It was sub-par quality, but I still nutted in her face and felt like the man. Dumped her a couple weeks later and got with her much hotter virgin bff. Those stories will come in time.

College: What a fucking adventure. My university days deserve a separate blog honestly, but I don’t have that kind of time. This is an alternative pickup blog, where I will breakdown traditional content and adapt it to those like me living in the middle of nowhere. I have always been good at explaining theory to those who want to learn basic pickup.

I didn’t even want to go to college, I just wanted to race, party, fuck whores, and smoke dope all the time. The funny thing is, I did all that, and went to college anyways. I credit that decision to my high school guidance counselor. She sat me down one day and told me I was top 10 academically in my class and it would be a shame of me not to further my education. In this sense, attending a small school can be good, as it opened doors to whatever college I wanted to enroll in minus a few top end Ivy League butt pirate schools. I had no desire to be that guy anyways, so I chose the bottom of the barrel, a tech school not 10 minutes from my home much to my counselors chagrin. You can lead a horse to water, but…

My first two years at the tech school were a fucking joke. I was young and didn’t take it the least bit seriously. I thought I’d ride through on easy street like in high school, which I did to a degree, but nearly flunking out early on. My first day of class was awful; I was a commuter student so I didn’t have a roommate to chill with afterwords. Dejected, I decided to get in my car and head home for some gunplay. We like our guns up here. Little did I know a meathead fraternity guy named Nelson was following closely behind. When I reached my car, a bangin’ Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme coupe (“The cutty” which I later wrecked driving home from the same frat…another story for another day) Nelson also unlocked his own ride, a slammed pickup with chrome wheels. In hindsight, this truck was as gay as AIDs, but being an auto enthusiast I got talking to him about it, and with that I was invited to the first frat party of the year. Little did I know how this simple conversation would absolutely turn my life upside down.

Without Nelsons invitation, it’s hard to say what I might have done that weekend had I not gone to the frat. I like to think that little pickup truck set the wheels of my own pickup lifestyle in motion. Strange analogy, I know, but if I wouldn’t have jumped right into the scene as a freshman, I may have taken a completely different path. In fact, I would have spent much more time with my beta high school friends, weekends at the dorm playing halo 2. This was not the case.

Friday night, 8pm. Just like Nelson told me. I showed up expecting a massive party, but walked into a Greek sausage fest. I was not greeted in kind, they all had letters on. I just about turned and walked out until I heard him. “GET THE FUCK BACK HERE Dr.B; I GOT A NATTY FOR YA.” Those were his exact words. A Natty for me…a fucking NATTY. What a welcome. I felt relieved, yet still wary as I was introduced to most of the active house. Cool guys for the most part, except for one ginger manlet that refused to shake my hand. Fuck that guy. I don’t remember seeing him at another party anyways. An hour in and people we’re showing up, but it’s mostly guys with the same confused look I initially had on my face. All the girls around the party were sorority hussies chain smoking Newports. I figured it out quicker than most of the other guys, we were being rushed already.

We played Beirut (quarters) all fucking night long. I don’t think I ever drank that much in a single night back in high school. We never got kegs back in the day; I used to get my brother to buy me a bottle of vodka or Ice 101. At my school, 30 racks were the rage when you’re a shit kicker that loved drinking Genny Light or Busch. So, these guys have got a keg of Natural Ice in the middle of the living room floor. What I didn’t know was they had 3 more kegs out in the barn. Yes, this fraternity had a BARN out behind the house. Should also mention the house was down a cow shit covered road outside of town. Walking back to campus took nearly half an hour. This was the closest fraternity to campus.

Something changed at midnight. The doors opened and people flooded in. The party was epic, like nothing I’d been to in HS. I didn’t play much Halo after that.